Page 97 of Carter

“You should give her a heads up. Stop by her work, maybe. See how she wants to do this. She can come here; I can go there. Whatever she wants.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “I will be in touch as soon as I talk with her.”

I get my files and go back up to my office.

I’d love nothing more than to update Carter on this, but if it doesn’t work out, it’ll destroy him. And I can’t do that. I won’t do that to him. I do call him though, because I want to hear his voice.

Only it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, just hoping we could get together later. You can come by if you want. Call me back.”

I end the call and put my phone on my desk, then stare at it. I feel light, proud, and on top of the world. I’ve been here nearly two months and I’m solving my first case. It’s a great start. I know I won’t be able to solve them all, which isn’t a great thought, but this gives me more confidence than I’ve had in a while. Coming here wasn’t easy, even if I convinced myself it was. Starting over never is. It’s scary. But after a while, everything works out.

I feel like I’ve accomplished something, like I’ve helped someone, and I know I’ll feel that ten times over once Mercer is behind bars.

My phone dings with a text. Then another.

Carter: Sorry, at work.

Carter: Who leaves voicemails anymore?

I chuckle, then text back.

Me: Come over later.

Carter: I’d love to.

Me: What time do you get off work? I’ll pick you up.

Carter: 6. But I’m fine to get home on my own.

Me: I want to pick you up.

Carter: Fine, if you insist.

I spend the rest of the day going through other files, requesting evidence and reports, responding to emails. I’m antsy because I just want this done. Waiting is never easy, but that’s why I keep myself busy.

My plan is to stop at the Quick & Dry tomorrow morning and speak with Lilianna, give her the heads up on what we’re going to do and see how we can make this work. Because this will work. It has to.

Carter gets into the truck and I immediately lean over to kiss him.

He smiles. “What was that for?”

“I missed you.”

His face lights up like it’s Christmas morning.

“I missed you too.” I put the car in drive and pull away from the curb. “Before we go, can we stop at my place?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“I just want to grab some clothes in case I stay. I have to be at work early tomorrow.”

“How early?”

“Opening. Eight o’clock.”

“I can drop you off on my way in. If you want to stay, that is. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”